


Gwir Good Gold

by sanguinity



Category: Hornblower - C. S. Forester
Genre: Anal Sex, Beach Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Misunderstandings, Selkies, cross-cultural relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:22:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26826574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguinity/pseuds/sanguinity
Summary: When one is an immortal fey creature of the sea, loving a human can be a frustrating — and potentially costly — endeavour.
Relationships: William Bush/Horatio Hornblower
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Gwir Good Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goldenhart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenhart/gifts).



> A fill for the prompt, "Is that my shirt?"
> 
> Based on goldenhart's as-yet-unpublished Selkie AU (although she has some excerpts [here](https://tgarnsl.dreamwidth.org/5651.html) and [here](https://tgarnsl.tumblr.com/tagged/the-Selkie-AU)), wherein William Bush is a selkie. This is set late in goldenhart's story, well after Bush and Hornblower have an established (and consensual!) relationship; hopefully this can be read as a stand-alone.
> 
> Happy birthday, goldenhart! Thank you for the push to get this finished; it's been such a treat to share stories with you.

When William, sulky and defiant, returned to Horatio's study, he wore a shirt and nothing else.

Horatio looked up from his work, prepared to be exasperated at William's antics, but paused. He frowned. "Is that my shirt?"

"You told me to dress, so I did." William rolled his shoulders uncomfortably; in comparison to a selkie's cherished sealskin, all clothes are ill-fitting.

"And I thank you for it," Horatio responded, although William's idea of dressing had proved to be only the barest salve to modestly. "But is that my shirt you're wearing?"

"It's only a scrap of cloth. It can hardly be said to be yours."

It was an irritant to William, this human obsession with claiming ownership of dead and meaningless things. Selkies have no possessions beyond their skins; they do not horde bones and shells like an octopus in her midden. But humans did just that, grasping at lifeless bits of metal and wood and cloth as if they had some intrinsic worth. It was little wonder that humans stole selkie skins, a pathetic attempt at possessing something real and true in their cold, impoverished lives.

Horatio ignored the invitation to an argument and stood from his desk. He came to William, touching the fine lawn of the shirt where it covered the selkie's chest. William rumbled in discontent, vastly preferring the touch of skin on skin. He reached above his head to pull the shirt off again, but Horatio hastily reached up and pulled William's arms back down to his side, making soothing noises as one might with a small child. Again he ran his fingers over William's chest. "It _is_ my shirt."

William lifted his arm to his nose and took a deep inhale. "You wore it last," he said, which as much as he was willing to concede on the question of whether something so trivial could be owned. "Do you begrudge me it? Shall you be a jealous grasping octopus? It's only cloth. A dead thing, which you cast off nightly."

Horatio sighed, and his hand dropped from William's chest. "Yes, I suppose it is."

William's eyes narrowed. "Why does that disappoint you?"

Horatio shook his head and stepped away, but William took him by the shoulders to turn him back. Disliking the feel of cloth under his hands, he shifted his grasp to Horatio's jaw and neck instead, his fingertips burrowing beneath Horatio's neckcloth. Horatio shut his eyes and went pliant, as susceptible to living touch as he ever was. That was another way that humans made themselves miserable: they denied themselves touch, when anyone could see how much they craved it.

"Why does it matter to you?" William asked again.

Horatio tried to shake his head and step back, but William was too stubborn for that. He gave Horatio a shake of reproof, not so rough as to injure a delicate human, but enough to express his irritation. "Tell me."

Horatio's hand came up to clasp William's wrist. "It's no matter. I imagined…" His mouth twisted in unhappiness. "That it was more than cloth, I suppose."

William frowned. "A skin?"

Horatio nodded.

"Your skin?" William asked, with rising disgust and dismay. "That I had taken?"

Two more nods.

Revulsion rolled through the selkie, and he stepped back, releasing Horatio. "You thought I might take part of your soul?"

Horatio looked away.

The selkie's shoulders twitched, his skin crawling where the fabric touched it. "And… and _wear_ it?"

Horatio's shoulders hunched in admission.

William reached up to hastily the shirt over his head, desperately needing it off after the contamination of that image. He threw it to the ground and backed away from it. "I would never…!" he spat. "Do you hear me? Never!"

"It was just…" Horatio said, but William had already left the room, making for Horatio's bedroom. There, he went directly to the sea-chest at the foot of the bed.

"William!" Horatio called from the door.

But William already had his skin in his hands. It sang to him, warm and alive — the sweetness of the first breath after a long dive. William had long since made his peace with Horatio being a skin-stealer — Horatio, overcome with guilt, had soon returned William's skin, and had expected not even his own life in return. But for him to think that _William_ might steal a skin… That William might then _wear_ it… His flesh crawled, as if the cursed object of Horatio's shirt still touched it.

"William," Horatio said, low and despairing.

Throwing open the French doors of the room, William strode down to the sea.

The sea did not cool his hurt and anger. His kin welcomed him as they always did, happy to have him returned to them, but as puzzled as ever as to why he would choose to remain with a skin-stealer. That Horatio had repented of his crime meant little to them, as perhaps it should. William roiled with hurt and confusion, and not even the teeming life and ordered rightness of the sea could soothe it. Days went by, as he inspected the half-grown pups, danced with his kin and shared in their kills, and yet still Horatio's imaginings gnawed at him.

"What has he done this time?" his sister asked as they basked together.

William could not bear to speak the horror he had been accused of. He could not bear, either, to have them associate such things with Horatio, to taint him in their eyes even above what censure he had already earned for himself.

But his silence was eloquent. His sister looked at him sorrowfully and pushed her body close to his, giving comfort and shelter.

"Will you stay with us this time?" she asked.

"No," he said, for even despite his hurt, he missed Horatio sorely. Nevertheless, it was another four days before he returned.

He let the tide and waves carry him high onto the beach, and shed his skin when he was still belly-deep, the waves tugging at his ankles and scooping the sand from beneath his feet, trying to drag him back to the sea as he strode up onto the beach.

He found Horatio well-wrapped in his boat cloak, waiting where the beach-grass began, one more hillock among many. When William came to stand over him, he looked up. His cheeks were red from the cold, his curls wind-whipped and tangled. He had been sitting here for hours, perhaps even days, and William felt a twist of discomfort to see the hopeless misery in Horatio's expression.

"I'm sorry," Horatio said. "Forgive me."

"Come, you're cold. You've been out here too long," William replied, and put out a hand to pull Horatio to his feet.

"I'm warm enough," Horatio protested, but without energy. His hand was warmer than William's, fresh from the sea as William was, but William knew that hand should be warmer still.

William led the way to the house, threading through the spiky beach grass and climbing up to the hedge that contained the groomed lawn, its blades soft under William's feet. William carried his skin in his hands; Horatio kept his own hands hidden beneath his boat cloak.

Inside the French doors of Horatio's bedroom, William went to Horatio's old sea chest and stowed his skin neatly, regretfully closing the lid on its song, and pretended not to notice the way Horatio's shoulders eased when William shut the lid.

Horatio took the towel down from its hook by the doors, and moving tentatively, as if afraid of being rejected, he advanced to wrap William in it. "You're wet."

"I don't mind being wet," William replied, but he submitted to the ritual nonetheless. He tolerated the patting for a time, then when his patience ran out, as it always did, he took Horatio's face in his hands, his face being the only part of him not hidden by fabric.

Horatio went still, leaning into William's touch. As near as William could tell, no one had ever touched Horatio before William came; it was a fact that no one but William touched him now. Humans had so many hoarded possessions, but no touch to speak of — such small, miserable lives.

"Take all this off," William said, and Horatio dropped the towel, his elegant fingers going to the buttons of hs cloak. He pushed it back off his shoulders, and began working on the many layers beneath it.

Impatient, William kissed Horatio, and Horatio went soft and yielding, his mouth opening hungrily to William's. A few seconds later his hands were on William, sinking into his wet hair, his own clothing forgotten. The part of William that had been crying out for Horatio these past days was satisfied to know that he had not been alone in his distress, but when Horatio tried to draw William close, William stood back.

"Your clothes," he said, refusing to put up with the feel of the dead things between them, and with a sound of frustration, knowing William would be immovable on this point, Horatio returned his attention to his buttons, trying to remove everything at once. William waited impatiently as Horatio thrust his clothing from himself, but at last Horatio was as nude as William — although unlike William, Horatio felt the chill of the room, his skin pricked with goosebumps. His naked flesh was more fragile than a selkie's human form, and hurt and frustration rose up anew in William, that Horatio could think him capable of—

"I would never steal your skin," William said, anger colouring his voice. "Not even if I was human and didn't know any better."

"No, of course not," Horatio protested, full of remorse. "You never would."

But it wasn't enough for William. It didn't soothe the hurt and frustration in his breast, and he bore Horatio bodily back to the bed. Horatio went easily, not protesting the rough handling. He grunted quietly when William's weight landed on him, but he gripped him tightly, pulling him close, and stretching up to be kissed. His mouth opened hungrily under William's, and for once William didn't hold back — much — and he allowed himself to be all teeth and frustrated dominance.

"I would never," he insisted again.

"I know, you wouldn't," Horatio said into William's mouth, holding him close, straining up against him. His cock was hard beneath William's belly.

William tried to get his knees under him to cover Horatio properly, but Horatio was too low on the bed, and there was no space for William to get traction. Horatio felt William's struggles and kicked himself higher, bucking like a beached selkie, and William followed him up the bed until he could at last cover him properly. Horatio hooked a heel around William's legs, pulling William in close. They rocked together like that, with clumsy, heated strokes, their cocks bumping and rubbing each other's bellies, when Horatio reached down, and catching his own leg, hoisted his rump up into the air. William drew back to make space, Horatio gave a determined wriggle, and then William's cock was sliding down between Horatio's cheeks and over his hole. Horatio tilted his hips more, wriggling like a caught fish, and William's cock caught on the rim of Horatio's hole, William's whole weight balanced behind it.

William froze, even as he felt the elastic rim stretch and give.

"You can't—" he protested, even as he wanted, yearned, to press inside, to rut and possess and spend.

"Just—" Horatio hissed. He released his knee, his hips falling away from William's cock, and stretched to reach the table beside the bed. William waited impatiently, his cock rooting blindly into the tender flesh of Horatio's sack. Horatio spent a few moments fumbling around on the table, and then he was back, his fingers dripping sweet oil, lavishing it cool and slick on William's cock. He swept a broad stripe of it over his hole, then reached for his knee again, cranking his hips up so that William's cock slid between his cheeks.

"That's not enough," William protested.

"It is," Horatio said, reaching to pull William close, his fingers slick and hard on William's hip.

William should have pulled back and put a stop to it, enforced a more sedate pace, but Horatio was urgent under him, his breath hot in William's ear, his arse slick against William's cock. William's cock had a mind of its own, eagerly stroking between Horatio's cheeks, seeking entrance. Horatio continued to shift and strain, and again managed to catch William's cock on the rim of his hole; again, William felt his whole weight balanced behind it, wanting only to be let loose.

"You're not—" he said, but his objection was half-hearted. He wanted in, wanted to feel Horatio tight and hot, taking him into his body.

"I want you," Horatio said. He fidgeted, small adjustments of alignment, lining himself up beneath William's cock. His eyes were wide and pleading; his breath hitching. "I want—"

William did not have the resolve to deny Horatio and himself both; he let himself push past that yielding resistance.

Horatio flinched and cried out, going rigid beneath William.

William froze, but Horatio clutched at his hips, refusing to let him withdraw. "Do it. I want— Please!"

Against his better nature, William cautiously pressed the rest of the way home while Horatio hissed his discomfort open-mouthed against William's cheek. William turned his head to kiss Horatio and whisper reassurance to him, but Horatio was in no mood to be comforted: he bit at William, vicious snaps of irritation, until William, irritated himself, was forced to hook an arm under Horatio's knee and bend him back into the bed under William's own weight. "Yes, do it," Horatio snapped, clutching at William's shoulder and hip.

William drew back and thrust into Horatio. The effect was instantaneous: Horatio tilted his head back, his neck one long line of corded tension, and gave a strangled cry. Pain or pleasure, William didn't know which, but Horatio's hands were still clutching at him, holding him close, so William thrust in again, and again heard that low, strangled sound. It made William shudder to hear him so, and he itched to drive more such sounds from him. He thrust into that welcoming heat, and Horatio held him close, sounding as if he was dying by slow degrees. He was grunting now, his breath driven from him from the force of William's cock. He squirmed and reached for his own cock. William groaned with effort and hoisted Horatio's arse higher.

It was a kind of madness, to sink himself again and again into Horatio's willing body, his thrusts punctuated by Horatio's cries. Sweat dripped from William as he laboured, and Horatio's heels dug into William's thighs and arse, his hand flying on his cock, his face twisted with effort and concentration. Then Horatio gave a long, tortured sound, his body going rigid, his arse convulsing around William's cock, and William redoubled his efforts to drive him through it. When William finally fell over the edge himself, it was to Horatio's breathless and urgent snatches of encouragement, his breath juddering in his lungs as William drove into his body, his nails painful on William's shoulders.

The world came back to William slowly. Horatio squirmed, pushing at William's hips and shoulders, and William dragged together the presence of mind to withdraw from Horatio's arse and release his leg. Horatio groaned, heartfelt, as he lowered his hips to the bed, and William felt a flush of pride to have covered him so well. William let himself fall to the side, limbs sprawling to let his sweat evaporate. They lay so, half-stunned, breathing heavily. Presently Horatio crawled out of bed, and William listened with contented satisfaction as Horatio moved about the room, occasionally hissing in discomfort.

"Come back," William ordered, when Horatio's absence began to wear on him. Horatio grumbled, but he returned to bed, reeking pleasantly of sex and William's sweat. William rolled to his side and gathered Horatio close.

They lay so, the light from the French doors slowly shifting across the floor.

But discontent plucked at William.

"Why did it please you," he asked, "the thought of my stealing your skin?"

Horatio immediately drew away from William's embrace, but William followed him across the bed and sprawled heavily across him, pinning him with his weight. Horatio could still have escaped — William would have let him go if he struggled outright — but Horatio lay still, his face turned away but accepting of William's embrace.

"It doesn't matter. It was nothing more than a passing thought. I beg you forget it."

William had no intention of forgetting it. "Was it that you wished me to lower myself to your level? Does it disturb you, that you are a skin-stealer, and I am not?"

Horatio cringed upon himself. "You would never do such a thing."

"No," William agreed, "I would not. So why did it please you to imagine that I might?"

Horatio shook his head, and William waited silently.

When Horatio did speak, it was on another topic. "I didn't think you'd come back."

"You were waiting for me," William pointed out. "I'm not sure I could stay away."

"You've tried," Horatio said, hearing some message of his own in William's words.

"No. One day you'll be dead, and there will be nothing to come back to. With another selkie, I might go away for years at a time. Decades even, but with you…" He ran his hand down Horatio's side. Horatio would be dead all too soon. William ducked his head and set his teeth to Horatio's shoulder.

"Gently," Horatio warned, although William had done nothing to earn the warning. Disgruntled, William ignored him, mapping out with his teeth all the ways he might gnaw on Horatio, if Horatio were robust enough to endure it. It was an exercise in frustration: all the things that William could never do. He pulled back, his jaws closing with a snap, before his temptation could best him and rested his forehead against Horatio's shoulder, listening to the shallow breath in his inefficient lungs.

But Horatio had felt William's distress. He petted William's side, then, knowing what William needed, he turned his head to set his blunt teeth hard into the flesh over William's jaw. William murmured in approval: it was nearly enough.

When Horatio pulled back, it was to press soothing kisses to the toothmarks he had left behind — a gesture more necessary for Horatio's comfort than William's. William turned and met him in an open-mouthed kiss, lips and teeth, and if he had not been so recently spent, he might have pressed Horatio back among the bedclothes to cover him again. Instead, he glided his teeth across Horatio's jaw, buried his face in Horatio's neck, and held him close.

"I dream sometimes," Horatio said, his voice rough with shame or embarrassment. "At night, when I am asleep…" He did not finish the sentence.

"What?" William asked.

Horatio would not say, but looked at him in silent appeal.

"That you have a sealskin?" William asked. Who would not crave having the entire sea before them? That humans generally did not showed how little they understood about what was worthwhile in life.

Horatio nodded stiffly. "And that you possess my skin."

"Stolen it," William growled, still disliking that Horatio could think such a thing of him, even in his dreams, when he was not responsible for his thoughts.

"No," Horatio said, still shy of speech. "That I have given it to you, and you consented to keep it."

William frowned. "I don't understand."

Horatio was silent.

"Tell me," William urged. "That I may understand."

But Horatio struggled to be free of the weight of William's arm, and so William let him go. The look Horatio gave him as he left the bed was almost one of betrayal, and William felt more confused than ever.

Two days later, William could take the confusion no longer. "Come swimming with me," he insisted, as Horatio worked in his study.

"It's March," Horatio replied, his head bent over his desk as he wrote.

"I know. It's been too long since we've been swimming together."

A hint of a smile touched Horatio's lips, although he did not stop writing. "It's still too cold, William."

"I'll keep you warm."

"Hah. You'll freeze me through."

William grinned to himself. Horatio was not wrong, but he also minded less than he claimed. William came close and put his arms around Horatio's neck. "I'll warm you again." He set his teeth to Horatio's neck.

Horatio's quill went still, an ink blot swelling beneath its tip. William watched the blot's growth with smug satisfaction while he nuzzled Horatio's neck.

"Damn," Horatio said when he noticed the ruin of his letter. He put aside the quill with a breath of irritation. "This will all have to be done over."

"Later," William urged. "Come swimming with me now."

"You're a pest," Horatio complained, but he pushed back his chair.

The beach was only a short distance from the house, and yet it always took longer than William thought reasonable for Horatio to ready himself. Impatient, William stalked alone and naked down to the water, his pelt around his shoulders, while Horatio was still gathering together towels and blankets and the other accoutrements he thought necessary. It meant little that the last dregs of a winter wind whipped the cove into whitecaps: Horatio had William, after all, who could supply all the warmth any human needed.

William had donned his pelt and swum a full patrol of the cove when he heard Horatio enter the water. William ducked beneath the waves and swam strongly toward the shallows, where Horatio's feet and calves could be seen gingerly picking their way out into the waves.

William swung a wide arc and came barrelling in behind Horatio, neatly plucking his legs out from under him, dumping him on his arse with an outraged shout. Horatio had only just managed to sit up on the sandy bottom when William came around again, this time hitting him from the front and knocking him flat.

Horatio came up with a strangled gasp and a prolonged, primal yell, venting his dismay at the cold. He twisted to look for William, but William had already bellied himself halfway up the beach, where he shed his skin to lay it beside the clothes and blankets. There was a pile of driftwood there, too; no wonder Horatio had taken so long in joining him.

"You stupid, miserable bull!" Horatio shouted, as William turned and ran back down to the water. "It's cold!"

"You're wet now," William called back, and entered the water at a run, straight for Horatio.

Horatio braced to meet him this time, sidestepping to hurl William past him into the waves; William grabbed at him as he went by, dragging Horatio under with him. The tussled and splashed in the shallows together, Horatio at a disadvantage against William's greater weight and comfort in the water, but Horatio was a scrappy fighter, his lean frame containing a wiry strength, and he did not yield easily.

It was exhaustion that finally did for Horatio, and he lay back in the lapping waves, panting heavily, while William sprawled happily upon him.

"It's cold," Horatio complained again, his body beginning to shiver now that it was still, and William pushed his own warmth into Horatio. In a few moments, Horatio began to relax, and he put his arms around William.

"You miserable sod," Horatio said, but there was happiness and affection in his voice.

"Come swimming with me," William invited.

"Yes," Horatio said, and William glowed with pleasure. Taking Horatio's hand, William drew him to his feet and out into deeper water. Even for a human, Horatio was an indifferent swimmer, but he had learned to trust William over the years, and it was only with the slightest hesitation that he let William draw him under the waves.

On the beach again, dusk falling, it was only moments before Horatio began shuddering in the wind, which had only grown colder with the sun beneath the horizon. Horatio dove for his robe and blankets while William knelt by the wood and, with a touch, persuaded it to flame. Once it was burning under its own power, he turned back to Horatio, now fully enveloped in layers of cloth. William growled his discontent.

"I'm cold," Horatio grumbled, huddling deeper into his blankets. "Not everyone is a fey creature who can set things aflame by force of will alone. Come here and warm me if you don't like it."

That was an invitation, however ungraciously given. "By all means. I wouldn't want you jealous of a stick of wood."

Horatio scowled but nevertheless released his blankets when William tugged at them. William peeled them away and made space for himself at Horatio's back, settling his legs around Horatio. "Get rid of this," he said, tugging at the collar of Horatio's robe.

"You're like ice," Horatio complained — rightly, as William had spent a large part of his heat on the fire. But Horatio shrugged out of his robe, letting the fabric pool on the sand between them, and reached back and drew William's arms around him, skin to blessed skin. Once Horatio had William settled the way he wanted him, Horatio pulled the blankets more tightly around them both and shuddered dramatically, a full body spasm. "Who's warming whom?" he groused.

William licked the salt from Horatio's shoulder. "You're warming me," he said, just for the pleasure of hearing Horatio's harrumph, but he nevertheless obliged Horatio with warmth — a whisper compared to what he had provided the fire. Horatio relaxed back into William's arms. "You're still like ice, though. How is that possible?"

William continued to nuzzle Horatio's shoulder. "You are more like a seal than I am like you."

"That explains nothing," Horatio complained.

William put his face in Horatio's neck, and breathed in the living, animal scent of him, content to have Horatio in his arms and the sea beside him. "Tell me your dreams."

"To lead a squadron again," Horatio said without hesitation. The answer was curiously disappointing; William had hoped Horatio would speak of more than his career. "Would you come with me?"

"Yes, of course." William enjoyed the audacity of ships — improbable assemblages of wood, hemp, and linen, attempting to supply with cleverness and luck what they lacked in magic. But even if he did not enjoy ships, he would still accompany Horatio: he would not leave Horatio's life in the hands of cleverness and luck.

"You'd have to call me _sir_ again," Horatio warned, and William laughed.

"Is that something you miss? My following your orders?"

"I'll tell you that I don't miss having to ride you for your cheek."

William smiled against Horatio's shoulder.

"What do you dream of?" Horatio asked.

"You with a sealskin of your own," William said, and felt Horatio's breath catch. "There's only so much I can show you while holding your hand."

"What would you show me?" Horatio asked, his voice hushed.

"The deep water. Deeper than I dare take you when you cannot dive properly. I'd teach you to hunt. To dance. We'd bask with my kin on the beaches."

"Your kin would want me there?"

William shrugged. "They would mistrust you less if you had a skin of your own. If you could hear your skin sing, and knew what it truly meant."

Horatio set his chin on his arms, thinking about the picture William painted. "I don't…" He bit his lip. "I don't hear singing. Or music at all, really." His glance for William was full of uncertainty. "I've never confessed that to anyone."

But William had known that already; Horatio's total antipathy for music was difficult to miss. "You'd hear your own skin," he reassured him. "It's no ordinary music. And the sea's music, as well — it's no ordinary music. In the sea, you could dance." He ran a hand down Horatio's spine, then set his teeth to Horatio's shoulder. Horatio twitched, and William pulled back. "If you had a sealskin, I could bite you to my heart's content. If you allowed it."

"I would," Horatio said, and leaned back into William's arms; he tilted his head away, offering up his tender flesh to William's teeth. The gesture of trust sent a shudder of want rolling through William, and he buried his face in Horatio's neck until it passed. When he lifted his head again to press his lips to Horatio's neck, Horatio turned his head to meet him, and William lost himself in the sweetness of kissing and being kissed.

"Would you take me as a seal?" Horatio asked. "Is that done?"

"If you allowed it." Then, for the pleasure of scandalising Horatio, William added, "There on the beach, in front of all my kith and kin."

"You would never," Horatio hissed, his cheeks pinkening.

"If you allowed it," William said again, and had the pleasure of watching Horatio wrestle with himself. It was utterly necessary that he be kissed after that, but as their position proved not fully satisfactory for kissing, William bore Horatio to the sand in a tangle of legs and blankets. There was an interruption to the proceedings when Horatio huffily ordered William to get off him so that he could disentangle himself and rearrange the blankets, but soon Horatio was pressed neatly against William's side, William's leg locked over Horatio's to gather him close, Horatio's arm around William's shoulders — only then could they resume their kissing under a roof of blankets. William ran his hand down Horatio's side, over his hip and stomach, and lazily frigged his cock. "Well?" he asked, a glint in his eye. "Would you let me?"

Horatio turned his face into William's shoulder, steeling his courage, then pulled back and met William's eye. "Yes," he said, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment in the firelight. "If that's your people's way."

William grinned, delighted. "It's not," he confessed. "That's seals, not selkies," he said, and grunted when Horatio punched him hard in the shoulder. That started another wrestling match, one wherein William was careful to roll Horatio well away from the fire. Horatio fought well if futilely, and when he finally capitulated, panting and exhausted, William cuddled him close and frigged him slowly and thoroughly, whispering in his ear all the filthy things seals did to each other. Horatio came with his teeth locked in the meat of William's shoulder, shuddering prettily in William's arms. Horatio returned the favour for William, and then they both had to bathe in the sea again.

"House or fire?" Horatio asked, shivering with cold, when they re-emerged from the water.

"Fire," William said, unwilling to relinquish Horatio to the demands of his correspondence just yet. Horatio added another log of driftwood to the fire while William shook the sand out of the blankets. "Come lie down," he invited, and when Horatio did, William held him close and pushed warmth into him, taking almost as much pleasure in that act of care as he did in seeing to any other of Horatio's needs. Soon Horatio was relaxed against him, nuzzling William's arm and shoulder, soft as he only ever allowed himself to be in the light of a beach bonfire. William touched Horatio's face and kissed him, and Horatio kissed him back as sweetly as any girl.

"What else would you be willing to do?" William asked, and Horatio opened one eye to squint at him. "Would you eat your fish raw?"

Horatio pulled an exaggerated face of displeasure, and William laughed.

"You would, you know," he teased. "Once you have a salmon thrashing in your jaws, its flesh rich and silken upon your tongue, you wouldn't be able to help yourself."

"Perhaps," he conceded, without giving any sign of believing a word of it. William kissed the squinch of disgust off Horatio's face.

"Tell me," William said, when they were drifting and contented again, Horatio's fingers in William's damp hair, smoothing it away from his face. "What else would you do, if you were possessed of a sealskin of your own?" Horatio must have been more alert than he looked, for he frowned suspiciously at William. William regretted the loss of Horatio's happy ease, but the question had been maddening him for days. "Tell me the pleasure in having a skin, if it's not to wear it yourself."

"I begged you to forget about that."

"I can't," William confessed. "I wish I could. Tell me, so that I may understand."

Horatio was silent for a long time, long enough that William worried he had soured the night for no purpose. But Horatio did not pull away, either, his fingers thoughtfully resuming their path through William's hair, and so William held Horatio close and waited.

"I suppose you'll have no peace until I tell you," Horatio said. William waited expectantly. "It's not that I want you to wear it — it's only that seeing you wearing my shirt made me think of it, you see? I didn't realise how offensive you would find wearing another's skin, I'm sorry."

William nodded gravely. "Tell me what you do want, then."

Horatio sighed. "It sounds foolish to say out loud. Sometimes, in my dreams, at night, sometimes I have a sealskin, and you keep it in your possession."

"To keep you prisoner? To not let you leave?" William fought to keep his face neutral. To do such a thing to Horatio — even the thought was distressing.

"No, I wanted you to… _want_ me. You having my skin — I liked it. It felt secure. Like being wanted."

William stroked Horatio's chest while he tried to make sense of that. "Are you not wanted, then? I left my people for you. My domain. There, I am one of the sea's sons — she has given me gifts that I can only begin to show you. Here…" He paused unable to express the enormity of what he had given up for Horatio. Only the fact that the sea would still be waiting for him after Horatio's death made it tolerable. "Here, I _light fires."_

"I know," Horatio said, despair in his voice. "That's just it, don't you see? You've given up so much for me. How could you not want to go back?"

"I _do_ want to go back," William said in frustration. "I choose to remain here instead. Horatio, I know of no greater way to demonstrate my loyalty to you than that."

"No, of course. It was a silly fancy. I beg of you to forget it."

"I shall not forget it. Horatio, if you are unhappy—"

"I'm not," Horatio said, taking William's face in his hands. "The only thing that could make me happier than having you, is to have squadron _and_ you, I swear."

"If I could get you a sealskin of your own…" It might not be the impossibility it sounded. There were stories — dark stories, full of tragedy and loss, of sea witches selling sealskins to those who were willing to buy them dear. William wondered how dear that price would be.

"So I could ask you to keep it for me? That would be a sad waste. I'd much rather do all the things you just said — to see you as you truly are, in your own domain, with all your glory and powers. You're magnificent, Gwilhem. That you choose to stay with me, even for a little while…" Horatio caressed William's face, and kissed him again.

"A little while," William said bitterly, still thinking on the possible price of a sealskin and the gifts that sealskin might grant. "If it is only a _little_ while, Horatio, that will be through no fault of my own. But your people exchange… jewelry, yes? For each to keep for the other? Is that the lack you feel?" Remorse filled him: was it his disdain for human possessions that created this uncertainty in Horatio?

Horatio laughed. "Rings. For one's fingers. You called them _fetters_ when you first learned of them. And what would you do with one in your seal form?"

William shook his head. "Rings are useless to me; I cannot wear rings. But…" His mind raced, thinking on the possibilities. He took both of Horatio's hands in his, and kissed them. "If you will wait…"

Horatio frowned. "Where are you going?"

"Will you wait?" William kissed Horatio again, then stood. "Put more wood on the fire, and wrap well in your blankets." He stooped to pick up his sealskin and shook the sand from it.

"William," Horatio protested, unwilling to be left. But when William paused, his sealskin around his shoulders, Horatio sat up and gathered the blankets around his shoulders with a petulant frown. "I'll wait," he said. "Be quick."

William stooped to kiss him. "Try to sleep," he urged, and walked into the sea.

The sky was already going grey when William returned; the wind had died down during the night, and fog blanketed the beach. When William bellied his way up the beach, he found the fire burned down to embers and Horatio cocooned deep in his blankets. William chirped quietly to wake him, then touched noses — Horatio drew back with a start, huffing and shaking the water from his nostrils.

"William?" he asked, when he had gathered his wits. He stroked a hand over William's wet head. "Why are you— What's this?" he asked, as his hand brushed the chain high on William's neck.

William wriggled and shook the chain off over his nose. It did not come free readily; it had been made for a pup and not a grown selkie. Once it was off, William pushed the chain closer to Horatio. Horatio bewilderedly took it in his hand, and William rocked on his belly in eager anticipation, nose to tail to nose, before bellying farther up the beach to remove his skin.

When he came back, Horatio was pulling the links through his fingers, the gold gleaming in the grey light. William, still wet from the sea, sat down beside Horatio's pile of blankets.

"What is this?" Horatio asked, his voice hushed.

"It's mine from when I was a pup. They're... not toys, exactly, although you won't find a pup who hasn't played with theirs. They're a sign that a pup is beloved, cherished. Protected. They're one of the few things we own, beyond our sealskins."

"Fairy gold," Horatio said, awed.

"It will be yours, if you want it."

Horatio shook his head. "The stories are full of terrible things that happen to people who accept gifts of fairy gold."

"Gifts, yes," William agreed. "But not gold given in fair and equal exchange."

Horatio looked up, his expression sober, and studied William.

"Will you exchange with me?" William asked. "I can't wear a ring, but a chain… I can wear a chain."

Horatio's eyes were full beyond speaking. He turned the links over in his hand. "And what will your family think, when you come back wearing a pup's chain?"

"That I'm beloved. Cherished. Protected. They already know I'm hopelessly childish."

Horatio's mouth twitched in amusement, although his demeanour was still sober. He shook his head, although not, William thought, in refusal. "How could I possibly protect you?"

William said nothing; their history together spoke for itself.

"You don't have to do this," Horatio said.

"It means something to you, yes? Then it means something to me, as well."

Horatio was still silent, and for the first time, William felt doubt. " _Will_ you exchange with me?"

Horatio nodded, a quick and jerky gesture. "Yes," he said, his voice rough. "Yes, I will." He cleared his throat, and touched the back of his hand to his eyes. "I have… I have nothing that suits. I'll order a chain made up for you as soon as we go back. You'll have to consult with me on the dimensions."

William beamed, and took the chain back from Horatio's hand. "Shall I put it on you now? Do you trust me enough for that, fairy gold and all?"

Horatio laughed, the sound having a giddy madness in it. "God, yes, I trust you. You would have had my liver years ago if you meant me harm — you, or your dam and sisters on your behalf. Please," he said, and dipped his head for William.

If the chain was too short for an adult selkie, it suited a human neck admirably. "That looks well," William approved.

Horatio, eyes shining, fingered the links around his neck. "As soon as we go up to the house, I'll have one made for you," he promised earnestly, but William stopped his words with a kiss.

"When the fog clears is soon enough." He tugged at the blankets that enveloped Horatio. "I was cheated of my night with you."

"And whose fault was that?" Horatio asked, but opened his blankets and arms for William. "I wasn't the impetuous fool who rushed off in the middle of the night."

" _Lovestruck_ fool," William corrected, and had the pleasure of hearing that mad giggle again. "Smitten with a _human._ " He pressed Horatio back to the sand, and Horatio wrapped his arms around him and drew him down, for once not protesting William's wetness. They lay together by the cold fire and kissed and kissed again, and William tried not to think on the probable price of a sealskin.


End file.
